


Beautiful People

by parrotfish_elliot



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Hitman AU, M/M, Murder, pretty dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-29 23:23:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10864272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parrotfish_elliot/pseuds/parrotfish_elliot
Summary: Whizzer is a hitman and kills Marvin. That's it. (First person)





	Beautiful People

The clouds are dreary, the birds are silent, the streets are barren. What a wonderful day for my profession. I snicker to myself as I polish my silver pistol, checking and double checking my clients and targets, always the most thorough in the business. Of course I am, I’m the highest ranked in my, erm, company.

I find the location of my victim, though I despise that upraising term. They’re always cruel, self-entitled, elitist pricks, I decide, climbing in my purposefully inconspicuous Chevy, reorganizing my plentiful pile of Benjamin’s.

The whole “murder” thing is more than worth the over flowingly stuffed wallets. Once I get to the house of my, heh, business partner (or, well, my personal cash crop), I load my gorgeous baby with crystalline bullets, a psychotic smirk on my face.

I asses the character I must portray a door to door politician/slut. Joyful. I give myself but a moment to get into an asshole politician mood before smoothly sliding out of my ride, weapon hidden safely on my person. I arrogantly walk to the door, knocking with horrid intent but a faked kind expression.

The man in question opens the door, and I instantly launch into a bullcrap speech with heavy undertones of flirting. Seduce him, then slaughter him. Foolproof plan, as trustworthy intel states that he’s really hecking gay. Whatever, me too. He looks bored, yet clearly not ignorant to my sexual efforts. In fact, he had a certain hungry look in his eyes as he studied me.

I decide this is going too slow, and say in a low voice, “How about we move these political pursuits inside, hot stuff?” I smirk easily, his eyes widen a fraction as he nods, almost blushing.  
Too easy. I’m in the dumbass’s house and didn’t even have to use force. Where’s the fun in that? I prefer a challenge, but the boy, Marvin, as my file on him clearly states, obviously wants either to know why I’m here, or, more likely, he’s super horny and I’m super hot. Probably the latter. 

“Did I ever get your name?” His soft voice rings out, interrupting my modest pondering. I pause. What’s my name?

“Call me Whiz, most do.” Well, that’s not true, most know me as Whizzer Brown, or even just Whizzer, but he doesn’t need to know that. And a total of four people know my real name, despite my efforts to make it less than that.

He practically beams. “Cute name, fits the theme. You can call me Marvin.” He smiles more, unaware that I already knew that. 

Then suddenly he’s smirking, leading me to his room. I asses my surroundings, evaluating how to execute the perfect successful kill. The whole bullet-to-the-brain part, while inefficient, is the most pleasing part. I’m aware of the text on my documents saying to shoot him from behind. Can do, will do, would have done anyways. Wouldn’t want to screw up that pretty mug, now would we? I smooth my hair back, and we reach his room. I make a quick choice to kill him in a moment of dulled euphoria, as blood is rushing to his brain to process why and when, the larger blood splatter is always so pleasant to see. My favorite circumstance in which to do my job, in fact.  
By then, we’re to his bed and he turns to me, licking his rough lips, sizing me up. This is growing tedious as paint on a wall, can he get to the point?

My shining gun is burning a hole in it’s holster, still hidden under many false pockets. My pointer finger is beginning to twitch as I anticipate the kill. I would throttle him right now if I could, but no, I have to shoot him and throw his corpse in- sorry, spoilers.

It takes another millennium before he’s turned to his bedside drawer, eyes away from me. Finally, hasn’t he heard of speed? Before he has the chance to turn back, I have my pistol to his prettyboy hair, a cruel snarl on my face.

“It’s a shame, really, and a shock, how many big name people want you six feet under. I make it my job to please big name people who pay big money, which means you’ve been as good as dead since you woke up this morning. I won’t be caught, as I don’t exist according to any file on record. Regardless, are you ready to die?” I drawl slowly, feeling his body tense and noticing his hands shaking. I’m frankly surprised he isn’t screaming like an angry banshee. 

“D-die? I-I-I- “

“I’m drained from this conversation. Goodbye, Mister Marvin, it was a pleasure.” Not really. My finger squeezes the trigger- bam. Blood sprays the pristine bedsheets, his heart freezes abruptly. I feel the rush of the kill, god, there’s nothing better than the rush of the kill. The glee of a job complete. I drag his now limp body to his bathroom, roughly throwing him in the tub and turning on the shower. 

Why? So all evidence is washed down the drain. I stow my pistol away with a triumphant off-the-record text to my boss. Not my client, but my actual boss.  
“Good job, Whizzer.” Was all I got back. Predictable, he’s more than tired of my egotistical attitude. Me too, boss. Me too.

I sashay out of the building, a catty grin adorning my face. I climb into my navy blue car, only now calling my client. Time to get my money, bastard.  
He acts like I’m beneath him, which is nonsensical, I just slew a man for him. He can at least be grateful. He sent the money to my very secure company account, rambling and repeating in a fashion akin to a parrot-teacher how no one can find out about this, he was never in my presence, never. I remind him that I know how to work my job, promptly hanging up.

Not five minutes’ pass before the higher ups gave me a new client and target. Here we go again. I sigh, despite the vicious grin adorning my horrendously bloody face. 

This job is repetitive, psychotic, and insanely illegal on so many levels, but it’s amazing. The adrenaline rush of murder. Who needs drugs when you have guns? Not a highly trained merc, that’s for damn sure.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm,,, so sorry,,,, this was for a school assignment,,,,, it had to be first person,,,,,


End file.
